


Practicing Peace

by belmione



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Mild Angst, Podfic Available, catra goes to therapy kind of, catra meditates with perfuma eventually, hurt comfort, mild exploration of mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmione/pseuds/belmione
Summary: Catra’s past struggles with anger and abandonment resurface after returning to Brightmoon.  She and Adora travel to Plumeria and seek guidance from Perfuma.Set a year after season 5 after the squad's adventures returning magic to the galaxy.  Will be a short multichap, two or three chapters.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

“Catra! Bow! Can you block off that entrance?” Adora calls, frantic as she and Glimmer try to keep some wild, magic animal from trampling half of Thaymore. Catra isn’t sure what to call it. It looks something like a pig except with too many eyes and an unnatural sort of glow. 

“On it!” Bow answers and Catra follows, both of them running at break-neck speed towards the trees as Glimmer teleports back and forth, trying to get it to chase her and Adora instead of Catra and Bow. It takes the bait, charging her.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this!” he shouts at Catra over the noise of it all, panting.

“What, no fancy arrows this time?” she huffs.

“Actually, I do have one that might work! But I’ll need your help.”

The reintroduction of all the pent-up magic on Etheria hasn’t come without its problems. A town suddenly overgrown by trees, their roots and branches tangling as they grow unnaturally quickly. A great rift in the earth, torn by the eruption of magic from the core of the planet, right through the middle of a city. 

Now Thaymore, the little town that always seems to be in some sort of trouble, is being menaced by this giant thing, whatever it is. Animals like these used to be found only in the depths of the Whispering Woods, one of the last vestiges of magic on Etheria. Now they’re everywhere and towns like Thaymore are scrambling to adapt to a planet that’s not always recognizable anymore as its wild magic returns. 

Bow shoots up into the top boughs of a tree and a net comes loose from the arrow. It’s the same kind that captured Catra once years ago. Without a target to wrap itself around it hangs, limp, and too short to bridge the gap they need to block. 

Catra is in the tree without needing to be told, grabbing the loose corner and bounding through the canopy to the tree across from it.

“Can you give me an arrow? A regular one!” she specifies before he gives her something that explodes or deafens her with sound. Before she can say anything else, an arrow whizzes past her, barely missing her nose, as it buries itself in the bark of the tree.

“A warning would’ve been nice!” she shouts as she tugs the corner of the net over the arrow, securing it.

“Sorry!”

“It’s whatever! We need another one!”

“Already there,” he calls, pointing to a matching net just below the first. She jumps back to the first tree, scrambling down the trunk to grab the second net. The next jump will be more difficult. She’s not in the treetops anymore where the branches intertwine. She puts the corner in her mouth and leaps, desperately sinking her claws into the wood as she almost misses. 

“I need another arrow! A count of three would be nice, though.”

Bow counts to three and then shoots again. This time the arrow lands right in the corner of the net where Catra needs it. 

“Done!” she calls.

“I’m securing the bottom!” he answers, driving arrows into the ground with his hands like stakes just as Catra hears a strangled shout from Adora. She clambers up the tree to watch, making sure she’s safe. She’s leapt in front of Glimmer who teleported too close and was nearly crushed. Even as She-Ra, Adora is struggling against the immense strength of this animal, digging her heels in. Catra growls under her breath as she drops down to help Bow.

“Uh, Catra? You okay?” Bow asks, uneasy as they work.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she answers, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she uses her frustration to force arrows into the earth.

“Uh,” he points as Melog bristles, mane going reddish as Adora squares off with a magic beast many times her size. 

“Don’t worry about Melog, I’m fine. They’re just on edge because of that thing-”

Bow nods, looking unconvinced but unwilling to question it in the middle of a scuffle.

“Okay! It’s blocked!” he shouts.

“Thank goodness!” Adora bellows, strained. “Glimmer-”

In a flash of purple, Glimmer appears next to them with the beast and Adora in tow, dashing across to them with her hand in Adora’s.

“Everyone grab on!” she yelps as the thing charges all of them. They appear on the other side of the net, tense, on the ground together in a heap hoping it holds as it barrels towards them. The net strains, but it doesn’t budge. After a moment, it gives up, stomping angrily back into the woods. 

“Oh, thank god,” Adora groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as her transformation disappears. Glimmer flops back onto the ground.

“Do me a favor and don’t move me for a second, okay?” she whines, put-upon. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Catra mutters as Bow sighs.

“Whew. I’m glad that net held. But we’re always a good team, so we should’ve known,” he grins, nudging Catra affectionately. 

“Yeah,” she answers, trying to muster a smile, but she thinks it falters because Bow gives her an anxious look.

“You sure you’re okay?” Bow asks and Adora perks up at that, on high-alert at the suggestion that Catra isn’t alright.

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t argue but he’s skeptical. She realizes why, too, when she catches sight of Melog. Their fur stands on end and their tail thrashes, ears pinned, clearly frustrated. Adora looks between Melog and Catra a few times before hesitantly reaching out to Melog.

“Hey, it’s okay-” she ventures before Melog hisses at her and swats her hand. They don’t hurt her, but it’s an obvious warning. Adora startles and turns to Catra who hunches over, looking at the ground.

“Are you...mad at me?” Adora asks, quiet but honest. Glimmer and Bow look as if they’d like the ground to swallow them both whole.

“No,” Catra answers, but with Melog glaring at her, it’s a flimsy lie. 

Melog is a simultaneous blessing and curse. They’re a wonderful companion, but they make it absolutely impossible for Catra to hide anything anymore. It’s particularly awful in moments like these when Catra is trying to get control of herself and they go and betray every little stray emotion that crosses her mind.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s true,” Adora argues, approaching sarcasm as she gestures at Melog. They answer with something between a yowl and a rumbling growl that sounds deep in their chest.

“Okay, I have a great idea,” Glimmer leaps up off the ground where she’s been trapped between them and Bow joins her. “Why don’t Bow and I teleport home and you two can take Melog home and have some space to figure this out. Sound like a plan?”

“I don’t think Melog is going to let me-” Adora starts to protest but Glimmer is already gone, yanking Bow to her by the wrist and disappearing, the only remnant some purple sparkles that wink and die in the space in front of them.

“Cool, guess we’re walking,” Catra mutters. Adora follows her silently for a little while, but Catra knows she isn’t going to stay quiet for long.

“So, uh, what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m handling it.”

Adora eyes Melog warily. Their color has shifted back to blue but they’re still guarded, slinking low to the ground, ears flat.

“I’m sure you’re fine, but I want you to know it’s okay if you’re not,” she ventures. “You can tell me if you’re upset with me.”

“Thanks,” Catra nods. “But I can handle it.”

“I know you can, but,” Adora pauses, eyes wide. “Is it because I went off to work with Glimmer and sent you and Bow on your own?”

“I mean, maybe,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m working on it. So it’s fine.”

“Okay. If you’re sure you’re alright. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay,” Catra sighs, reaching to take her hand. “It’s just a little hard for me sometimes to see you in tense situations like that one but I’ll be fine.”

Catra thinks that the moment of anger in Thaymore is a fluke. But the longer they’re in Brightmoon, the more her temper she thought was gone or at least dampened starts to flare again. 

She spends her days trying to bury more and more. Desperate fear when Glimmer teases her lightly that she’s actually angry with Catra or doesn’t like her. A resentment when Adora laughs with Bow and Glimmer about things she wasn’t there to witness. Hot anger when Adora leaves Brightmoon to handle something on her own and instead of asking to go with her, Catra reasons that she should be able to handle being on her own and assures her she’ll be fine only to spend the next hours stewing and trying to will it away.

When Adora returns from that trip, she comes into their room to find Catra sitting in the middle of the floor with Melog standing in front of her. They hiss, threatened, as she crosses the threshold and Catra just puts her hands over her face, embarrassed at being unable to hide anything from her.

“Catra,” Adora pleads. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Catra groans. “I think I hate Brightmoon.”

“What?” Adora startles, incredulous. “Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I was fine for an entire year while we went all over the galaxy doing things a million times more dangerous than anything here and then as soon as we’re back on Etheria, I’m losing my mind.”

“I don’t know if that’s Brightmoon,” Adora reasons gently. “I think there’s something else going on.”

“Yeah, me not being able to handle stupid things,” Catra snaps as Adora slowly approaches. 

“It’s not stupid,” Adora shakes her head. “I think it’s more like some of the stuff you’ve always been dealing with is hitting now.”

“What, so I can handle the end of the world just fine, but not your going on an errand?”

“I mean, maybe,” Adora nods. “I don’t know if the end of the world left a lot of room for you to think. It didn’t for me.”

Catra can’t respond. She does remove her hands from her face and Melog backs down a little.

"I'm not trying to undermine you when I say this, believe me," Adora tells her, looking at her with a mixture of apprehension and sympathy. "I'm really proud of you and I know you've been working hard. But something's clearly bothering you and handling it the way we've been trying doesn't seem to be working."

“It was working before.”

“I don’t think it was,” Adora shakes her head. “We tried punching our feelings out all over the galaxy. But I think it was just a really good distraction,” she smiles sadly.

Catra curls her tail around herself and can't reply at first as Melog stands over her, defensive, back arched a little. Adora shifts her weight, hands at her sides, and they twitch every so often as if she isn't sure what to do with them. 

"Can I sit with you?" she asks and Catra nods, curling up to her side as she does so, though she still doesn't speak. Melog allows it, but doesn't calm, still defending her against an invisible assailant no one can see. 

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know, I don't even know what I'd say if I did," she throws her hands up, frustrated. "It's all stupid anyway!"

"It's not stupid," she repeats.

"I thought I was past this!" she growls weakly and Adora rubs her back in gentle circles. 

"Maybe you aren't," Adora suggests, hesitant. "It hasn't been that long, Catra."

"It's been a year!"

"Yeah, but we were traveling for most of that. And a year isn't that long. We were fighting each other for longer than that."

Catra's tail thrashes, agitated. Adora merely rests with her, clearly unsure what to do but intent on staying with her and comforting her as best she can. Catra can’t help but bristle when she hears Bow and Glimmer’s voices approaching. They burst in unceremoniously, used to coming and going from one another’s rooms without preamble.

“Guess who just swiped cake from the kitchen?” Glimmer sings, grinning before she stops short. “Oh, sorry. Bad time?”

Catra can only nod weakly.

“We can come back later,” Bow follows. “Or we can sit with you and eat cake still if you’d rather.”

“I don’t really know what’s better right now, to be honest,” Catra admits.

“We’ve all been there,” Glimmer smiles sadly, slowly approaching her. She and Bow sit, Glimmer on Catra’s other side, Bow across from them. He gently takes the cake from Glimmer and sets it in front of Catra.

“Cake doesn’t necessarily help when I’m upset, but it doesn’t not help either,” he offers. 

“We’re around if you want to talk about it, but you don’t have to,” Glimmer nudges her with her shoulder as Adora eyes her gratefully from Catra’s other side. Catra breaks a morsel of cake off with her hands and stuffs it in her mouth, uncaring that there’s now icing under her claw. She lets Melog lick the remaining cake off her fingers.

“There’s not much to say. It’s been a year and I’m still freaking out if Adora leaves a room for two seconds or someone looks at me the wrong way. It doesn’t seem to matter how much I try to control it, it’s still in there. If anything, it’s getting worse!” she growls and Melog’s ruff flickers purple, responding to the way she’s on the edge of anger. “Sorry,” she apologizes, burying her head in her crossed arms, resting on her knees.

“Woah, it’s okay,” Glimmer murmurs. “I get it. This stuff doesn’t go away immediately. Sometimes it doesn’t go away at all.”

“Seriously?” Catra starts, panicked, looking up from her arms.

“No, no, not like that,” Glimmer puts her hands up, disarming. “It’s not always going to be this tough. What I mean is I think you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

Catra grumbles, unconvinced.

“If things were better when we were traveling around, maybe you should take a little vacation. Plumeria is beautiful this time of year,” Bow suggests.

“Why, so Perfuma can try to make me meditate with her?” Catra mutters. 

“No, even though that’s not a bad idea,” he answers. 

“It feels like that’s just running away,” she sighs, picking up another chunk of cake with the hand Melog isn’t currently cleaning. 

“Not if it helps you,” Glimmer shakes her head. “Everyone needs breaks.”

Adora merely runs her fingers through Catra’s hair.

“You don’t have to do any of those things,” Bow tells her. “We’re just suggesting stuff in case something sounds like it’ll help.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, still picking at the cake. Adora reaches past her to grab some unceremoniously in her fist.

“Also? I think Bow’s wrong,” Glimmer cuts in and Bow looks at her, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

“What?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Cake totally helps,” she giggles, delicately reaching for some too and Bow deflates, relieved. Catra gives them a feeble smile.

Glimmer and Bow leave them after a little while, though not before making them both swear they’re alright. They move to the bed they share, Adora pulling Catra to her and Melog curling around their feet. Adora isn’t saying anything, but Catra can tell between the way she clings to her and looks at her with wide eyes that she’s unbearably worried. 

“It’s okay, Adora,” she murmurs, trying to reassure her.

“It’s not if you’re not okay,” she pleads, sighing deeply.

Catra rests against her for a moment before she says anything else.

“I think maybe going to Plumeria isn’t a bad idea,” she sputters, so quiet she’s not sure Adora will even hear her.

“Really?” she pulls back to get a better look at her. “W-whatever you need, we can leave tomorrow-”

“Chill, Adora,” smiles, both affectionate and still unsettled. “Tomorrow is fine or the next day or even a week from now. Just don’t stay up all night planning it, it’s fine.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t act like you weren’t going to go make some dumb packing list or figure out which way the wind’s blowing or something.”

Adora goes bright red but relaxes, even so, resting her chin gently on top of Catra’s head.

“Fine,” she answers into Catra’s hair. “But tomorrow all bets are off.”

Catra just hums in reply, drifting off to sleep. 

By the time she wakes again, Adora has been up for hours, meticulously packing and debating the pros and cons of each route to Plumeria. 

“So I’m all packed up and you’re mostly there. You just have to take a look to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Word’s been sent to Perfuma so she’s expecting us. We can take Swift Wind, that’s obviously the faster route, but I know you hate flying. The other option is on foot, which will take a day or so so we’ll have to camp out-” she starts as soon as Catra opens her eyes.

“Adora, slow down,” she groans. “I’ve never been there, but I’m pretty sure Plumeria isn’t going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” she smiles briefly before she looks at the floor, picking at her cuticles.

Catra extricates herself from the tangle of sheets and Melog’s splayed limbs, padding over to Adora. She cups her cheek gently.

“It’s okay. I know you’re incurably like this and I’m glad you care. Even if it’s a lot to wake up to,” she tells her, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. 

Catra manages to get Adora to eat breakfast before they’re off, leaving with hugs and well-wishes from Glimmer and Bow. Catra refuses to entertain the idea of flying. She says it’s because she wants to take Melog, which is partially true, but she also doesn’t want to admit that she doesn’t trust flying on Swift Wind just yet. 

“I’m just saying, I could’ve flown us there in no time,” Swift Wind complains. Adora pinches his ear from where she rides on his back. Catra’s atop Melog, who slinks next to Swift Wind with trepidation.

“Swifty, Catra doesn’t want to fly and this whole trip is kind of about her,” she admonishes and he rolls his eyes. He hasn’t warmed up to Catra completely yet. They tolerate one another to a point, but he’s protective of Adora and hasn’t forgiven Catra as readily as the others.

“I think it’s because you don’t trust me,” he sniffs at Catra, tossing his head.

“Swift Wind,” Adora warns.

“You don’t trust me either,” Catra points out. “Seems like it’s easier on everyone to avoid being thousands of feet in the air with each other.”

“And  _ your  _ steed is slow,” he tells Catra and Melog bristles, baring their teeth. 

“Swift Wind!” Adora barks, losing her patience. “Don’t make me turn you around!”

“You wouldn’t,” he narrows his eyes at Adora. “You wouldn’t deprive me of unlimited apples in Plumeria.”

“I would,” she answers. “So be nice.”

He grumbles but keeps plodding on, grudgingly keeping pace with Melog.

“Why are we going, again?” he asks. Adora looks at Catra, hesitant. She gives her a small nod to let Adora know she can tell him.

“Catra’s actually having a bit of a hard time right now,” she explains. “We’re hoping that maybe this trip might help her.”

Swift Wind pins his ears.    


“Sorry,” he winces, apologetic, lowering his head a little to look at Catra.

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have to be best friends,” she answers.

“It would be nice if you were,” Adora cuts in. “Or if you would at least try to be civil to each other.”

“Sorry,” they both answer and they’re both silent after that.

They stop for the night in the middle of the Whispering Woods, a place Adora is familiar with. 

“We stopped here on one of our first trips together,” she chatters, clearly excited to be able to show Catra too. It’s a nondescript clearing, but it’s special to Adora, so Catra lets her talk, happy for something to distract her. “Honestly I found being out here a little more helpful than Mystacor.”

“Yeah, I’ve only been to Mystacor once and it wasn’t a good time,” Catra answers, unable to forget Adora’s taking the failsafe into her chest, how Catra couldn’t stop her, the unnatural glow just at her breastbone. 

“It wasn’t for me, either. Both times were pretty rough,” Adora murmurs, quiet. “I’m sorry. I know it still bothers you.”

“It shouldn’t. It’s all over, anyway.”

“Shouldn’t doesn’t really matter if it still upsets you.”

“I’m trying really hard not to be upset about it, so it would really help if we could drop it,” Catra answers through gritted teeth. 

“Okay. I think dropping it isn’t going to work forever, though.”

“Adora,” Catra pleads.

“I’ll stop,” she concedes, clearly frustrated but trying to soften it.

“Thank you,” Catra mutters. “I’m not at my best right now and I just really don’t want to have a fight out here of all places.”

Adora nods, understanding. It would be a bit too familiar, an argument in these woods still healing from their bitter war against one another that scarred it in the first place. 

Catra curls up next to her and Adora puts her arms around her, her embrace warm and safe the way it's always felt. Catra rests her ear over her heart and the steady beat of it eases the roiling in her own. 

Catra doesn't remember falling asleep. She wakes surrounded by soft warmth. Adora is snoring gently, facing her. She looks peaceful for once, face relaxed instead of mildly tense, not even thrashing about in her sleep.

Catra blinks, disoriented. There's light, but it's dampened. She realizes they're leaning on Swift Wind's side, his wing folded over them like a shield. She can feel Melog at their feet, guarding the little space between the horse's wing and the ground. 

Catra rests and watches Adora for a moment in the filtered light, the easy rise and fall of her chest. It’s short-lived, though, as Adora’s jaw clenches hard enough that Catra can hear her teeth grind and she twitches. Catra laces her fingers with hers before she can start jerking around. 

“Adora,” she calls her name to wake her, but her voice is joined by Swift Wind’s who notices the disturbance at the same time Catra does. He lifts his wing to investigate.

“Oh, you’re up,” he comments, startled, but Catra ignores him in favor of getting Adora to wake up before she punches one of them on accident.

“Adora, wake up,” she tells her, firm but gentle, steadying Adora’s hands as she tries to shove her away. “It’s just me.”

Adora’s thrashing slows before she opens her eyes, squinting in the light streaming through the canopy of trees.

“Sorry.”

She’s barely conscious and already apologizing, cheeks flushed.

“Stop apologizing. You’ve sleep-fought your entire life, I knew what I was getting into when we got together,” Catra teases hoping to lighten the mood. Adora smiles, hesitant and clearly still halfway into whatever nightmare she’s awoken from.

Swift Wind averts his eyes quickly, something between guilt and embarrassment evident on his face. Melog just stretches and purrs, rubbing Adora’s leg with their head. 

They absently eat, Catra mostly picking at her food and Adora wolfing hers down, barely chewing before they continue. The rest of the trip to Plumeria is near-silent, though Adora shoots soft and concerned smiles to Catra from time-to-time and Catra tickles her hand with her tail in answer. 

It’s sunset when they reach Plumeria and Catra takes it in, wide-eyed and hushed. There are flowers absolutely everywhere in every shade, though pink might be the most common. The sun is warm and glowing in open areas, the shade cool and fragrant with the scent of blossoms and grass. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Adora smiles, watching her.

“Yeah,” Catra mutters, taking in the friendly smiling and waving from everyone they pass. She bristles under all the attention but tries to rein it in. Melog’s fur stands on end.

“Why is everyone,” she gestures around them, unable to put it into words.

“Oh, that’s just Plumeria. People here are really friendly,” Adora waves her hand, dismissive. “It freaked me out a little at first too, but it’s okay.”

“It’s weird,” Catra huffs.

“It’s fine once you get used to it. Don’t worry about it too much, they’re just trying to be polite.”

Perfuma rushes out to meet them at the base of the Heart Blossom tree, grinning. She wraps her arms around Catra first as Adora dismounts. 

“I’m so happy you two decided to visit! It’s a beautiful time of year. Restful and energizing at the same time,” she sighs, squeezing Catra lightly and she tries not to stiffen too much. She’s still unsure what to do with affection like this, the kind that the others seem so used to. Catra sighs when she releases her and goes to hug Adora, who returns it eagerly. 

“Thank you for having us on such short notice-” Adora starts and Perfuma shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t have cared if you showed up out of the blue! Spontaneity is lovely.”

Adora opens and closes her mouth and Catra stifles a chuckle. Perfuma is fighting a losing battle. There isn’t a spontaneous bone in Adora’s body.

“Come, come! I’m sure you’re hungry after your journey,” she grabs Adora’s hand and pulls her along and they all follow into a large tent. There are quite a few people there she doesn’t recognize, sitting on cushions on the floor around a large meal at the centre. Catra freezes at the entrance when she spots Scorpia among them. She waves brightly, patting two empty cushions beside her as Perfuma settles on her other side. Catra reluctantly follows Adora to sit next to her.

Catra is still unsure how to handle Scorpia. The few times she’s seen her in the last year, she’s always brushed off her apologies with assurances of forgiveness and hugs. But they haven’t spoken more than a few words to one another since and it gives Catra a terrible sense of things unresolved and unspoken. If Scorpia feels the same, she doesn’t let on.

True to every interaction Catra’s had with her since joining the Rebellion, Scorpia unabashedly pulls her into a hug the moment she’s within reach. She yanks Adora in too, who gives a strangled yelp.

“Come here, you two! Gosh, it’s been too long. How’ve you been? Tell me everything-”

Perfuma giggles and puts a hand on her shoulder and Scorpia lets them go, carefully setting them down on the cushions next to her.

“Sorry, you’re probably hungry. But after that we have so much catching up to do-”

Catra can’t sleep that night. She tries, nestled in a small tent with Adora, the soft chirr of wildlife outside and her quiet breath comforting but not enough to lull her to sleep. 

After hours of restlessness, Catra abandons sleep and decides to explore instead. Melog chirps when she sits up, stretching and following her outside. Swift Wind raises his head at the sound.

“I can’t sleep. I’m just going to take a walk,” she explains. 

“Oh. I hope you feel better,” he answers, the attempt at camaraderie stilted but there all the same.

“Thanks,” she mutters. 

Plumeria at night is as alive as it is during the day. The flowers have curled in on themselves for the night, but the buzz of night insects is almost deafening. Plants with broad leaves that Catra overlooked during the day’s blooms emit a strange glow in stripes along the patterns of their veins. The Heart Blossom casts a faint pink gleam onto everything around it. 

Not everyone is asleep, either, even this late. Some tents are dark, but others have the yellow flicker of lanterns showing through. At others, people lounge outside by small fires, talking or singing. Catra clambers up the nearest tree, Melog trailing her, skirting along the branches at the edges of Plumeria’s clearings, taking in the intermittent light of life among the trees.

She pauses when she spots Scorpia alone in one of the little clearings, more isolated from the main cluster of people and tents than most. She has no fire, only a small lantern. Catra slinks through the trees toward her, silent. She sits with her legs crossed and her claws resting on her knees, face alternating between troubled and relaxed. 

She’s never seen Scorpia quite like this. She’s normally so frantic, always smiling or laughing, hurriedly trying to make others feel better. She’s always seemed a little too perfectly altruistic to Catra and it’s gratifying to get to watch her, quiet, at peace and conflicted in turn.

Guilt quickly follows, though. Catra has suspected that her quick forgiveness was too good to be true. Whether her distress has anything to do with Catra, she’s unsure, but it’s too easy for Catra to make that conclusion.

She fights the urge to go disturb her. She wants to talk to her, but she isn’t sure her presence is wanted right now. After a while of watching her, she turns to leave. As she does so, the branch she’s resting on cracks, nearly dislodging her. She and Melog avoid tumbling to the clearing below, but it’s enough to alert Scorpia of their presence.

“Who’s there?” she peers into the trees, squinting. “Catra?”

Catra resists the urge to curse under her breath.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she admits, dropping down into the clearing. Melog clambers down after her. 

“What were you doing up there?” Scorpia asks, laughing.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I couldn’t sleep so I just started walking around. I saw you but I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt-”

“Of course you can interrupt!” she crows, grinning. She sits down and pats the grass next to her. Catra joins her and Melog sits dutifully at her right. “I couldn’t sleep either, we might as well be awake together.”

“Thanks,” Catra tells her, still feeling as if she shouldn’t be here. “What were you doing?”

“Meditating. It helps sometimes if I can’t sleep. You should try sometime!”

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know how, though-”

“Perfuma can teach you! She taught me. I’d try to teach you myself, but I get my wires crossed sometimes when I try to do it by myself, so-” she rubs the back of her neck, nervous.

“Does it really help? You looked a little-” Catra trails off, afraid to finish her sentence.

“Upset?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Yeah. It helps me work through stuff when I’m upset,” she answers, still smiling but in a way that grows more melancholy by the second.

“Can I ask what you were upset about?” 

“It’s not really one thing. Lots of little things,” she stutters, uneasy in a way that clinches Catra’s suspicion that she isn’t as unaffected as she seems.

“If it’s about me, you can say it,” Catra tells her, quiet, wondering if she should. Scorpia startles, as transparent as always. It is about Catra, at least in part.

“It’s not just you-” she shakes her head.

“But I’m in there. I know that.”

Scorpia doesn’t answer. She just stares out at the clearing, biting her lip.

“Yeah,” she nods weakly. They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Catra continues.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anytime!” she answers, quick, a ghost of her usual energy coming back.

“Why don’t you let me apologize to you? Every time I try, you cut me off,” Catra mutters. “I don’t get it.”

“I already know you’re sorry.”

“How?”

Scorpia smiles sadly.

“Everything. The way you act, the way you speak to everyone,” she murmurs. “The way you keep trying to apologize even though I already know. Even the way you hold yourself.”

“You can’t tell me that’s enough,” Catra argues. “I hurt pretty much everyone, but I know I  _ really _ hurt you. You were there for me when no one else was and I threw it in your face. I feel like out of everyone, you’re the one who would want to hear me apologize. I don’t get it, it’s like you’re not even hurt-”

“That’s not true,” Scorpia shakes her head and Catra can hardly breathe, finally getting to see her expression falter. “You did hurt me. I’m still hurt in a lot of ways. But I don’t need to remind you of that.”

“Why?” 

“It’s not as helpful as you might think. I feel like you already know that, even if you don’t realize it.”

Catra sits with that for a moment. 

“I hope I’m not being presumptuous here, but you and Adora hurt each other pretty bad, right?”

“Obviously,” she answers, defeated.

“Does she remind you of every little thing you did?”

Catra shakes her head.

“We don’t need to. It’s...there. Not all the time, but it’s not like either one of us is forgetting any of that mess any time soon.”

“Right. And would it make you feel better to remind her of the things she did that hurt you?”

“No,” Catra answers, instant. “It’d just bring it all back and make me feel worse."

“Yeah. If you were still hurting me, I’d tell you. And I wouldn’t be around you like this. But reliving every second of it doesn’t help me and I bet it doesn’t help you, either, does it?” 

“No,” Catra shakes her head. “I just wanted to hear from you that you weren’t...I don’t know.”

“That I wasn’t what? It’s okay,” Scorpia reassures her.

“Maybe acting like you were fine so you didn’t hurt my feelings and not taking care of yourself,” Catra grumbles, looking at the ground and hoping the remark isn’t too pointed. But Scorpia doesn’t seem upset. Instead, she smiles brightly.

“You’re on your way to being a good friend,” she reaches to pull Catra to her, squeezing her tightly before releasing her. “I did do a lot of that before. I’ve always been bad at putting myself first. But that’s part of why I don’t need to keep reminding you, not when you’re trying to do better. I know how I feel and I’m paying attention to it now. I’m trying to remember that how I feel is as important as how everyone else feels.”

Catra nods, reassured, though not completely comforted. 

“I’m sorry still, though,” she tells her and for once Scorpia doesn’t interrupt. She nods.

“Thank you,” she says, accepting it even as it appears difficult for her. They sit together for a moment in a silence that’s easier than it was just a few moments ago. “Can I ask you something too?” Scorpia asks, surprising Catra.

“Sure,” she shrugs. “Go for it.”

“Why are you in Plumeria? Not that you’re not welcome, we’re glad you’re here-”

“No, it’s okay,” Catra shakes her head, sighing deeply. “Things have been a little rough for me lately. We thought maybe a break would help, but I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I got that from you,” Scorpia looks at her with the same overwhelming concern she always has. “You don’t look good, Wildcat.”

Catra flinches at the nickname and Melog licks their shoulder, agitated.

“I’m not,” she admits, even as it’s painful to say it. “I don’t get that, either. I was fine when we were going all over the galaxy and then we get back here and I’m a mess-”

“Sometimes stuff hits later. Maybe going all around just distracted you and all this was still there,” Scorpia tells her, gentle, nudging her affectionately with her claw.

Catra just grumbles, pulling her knees to her chest as Melog curls around her, protective.

“I’m sorry things are hard right now,” Scorpia offers. 

“Thanks. You said meditating helps?” she asks, hesitant.

“For me, yeah. I can’t promise it’ll do the same for you. But it doesn’t hurt to try. If it doesn’t work, you’re no worse off.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Want me to talk to Perfuma about it?”

“You shouldn’t have to do that for me-”

“I don’t mind. Sometimes the extra push helps me. If it helps you, I’d be glad to do it.”

“Thanks,” she nods, relenting. “That would actually be nice.”

“Done,” Scorpia smiles and Catra returns it, feeble but thankful at the same time. Melog, now relaxed, pads up to Scorpia, circling her and rubbing her affectionately. She giggles.

“Woah, hey there, buddy. You’re so darn cute, look at you.”

Melog purrs for a moment before straightening, alert, and taking off into the thicket behind them.

“Was it something I said?” Scorpia holds a claw over her mouth, worried.

“Doubt it. They probably hear something,” Catra listens intently for it before she catches it too. It’s Adora, voice faint but calling out for Catra, looking for her. 

“Catra? Catra-”

Melog catches up to her, cutting off her search.

“Oh, Melog,” she can hear her relax a little at the sight of them as she tramps through the underbrush at the edge of the clearing.

“Catra,” she sighs, relieved when she catches sight of them, still in her nightclothes. 

“I’m okay,” she reassures her. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You should’ve woken me up-” she answers, eyes wide with concern before she notices Scorpia. “Oh, Scorpia. Hi, sorry, I didn’t realize you were with her. Thank you for sitting with her-”

“Not a problem, I was awake too.”

Adora gives her a thankful and reassured smile before turning to look at Catra again.

“Do you want to stay out here or come back to bed?”

“I should probably try and sleep,” she answers, stretching and standing. “Thanks for talking with me,” she looks at Scorpia, smiling shyly at her.

“Anytime,” she nods, waving at her as she goes to join Adora and Melog.

“How was catching up with Scorpia?” Adora asks as they meander back to their tent, hand-in-hand.

“Good. A little more than a catch-up, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I actually asked her why she wouldn’t let me say sorry to her-”

“Seriously?” Adora starts, wide-eyed, well aware of how badly it’s bothered Catra. “What did she say?”

“Mostly that it wasn’t really helpful. For her or me. She did let me say it after, though.”

“Wow. You two had a really good talk, then,” she grins, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Yeah. I may have also asked her to talk to Perfuma about meditating,” she mumbles, barely audible, but the grin Adora gives her makes it clear she heard it loud and clear.

“Catra, that’s amazing,” she beams, squeezing her hand. “I’m proud of you.”

“Ugh, stop,” Catra groans, but she’s fighting a smile as she does it. Adora giggles and pulls her close, peppering her with kisses on her cheek close to her ear.

“No,” Adora answers, soft, with a smile that Catra can hear in her voice. They take a long way back to their tent, happy to be aimless for a little while until Catra starts to yawn. Even so, they sit for a little while outside, watching the sky until the stars fade into the dewy gray of morning. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for panic attacks & depression

Catra and Adora wake later in the day than they’re used to, almost noon. Normally that would send Adora into a tailspin, but she seems strangely calm about it. Maybe it's because there doesn't seem to be any overarching pattern to life here. People just come and go as they please, following their own schedules.

“So, does anything happen here?” Catra asks. They ate a late breakfast a few hours ago and since then haven’t done anything but lounge together in front of their tent, lazily watching the comings and goings of the little settlement.

“I’m not really sure,” Adora shrugs, apologetic. “Anytime I was here it was because the Horde was attacking or something. I’ve never seen it on a normal day before now.”

“Hm,” she nods, pensive. Though she’s happy to laze about here with Adora, she wonders if she’ll hear anything from Perfuma today. She isn’t sure if she really wants to. After a while, it’s difficult to relax at all, waiting around to see if Perfuma is going to turn up and whisk her away to meditate.

“Are you okay?” Adora scowls lightly, suspicious, craning her neck to look Catra in the eyes.

“I’m just nervous.”

“About meditating?”

“Obviously. Neither of us is very good at the whole emotions thing.”

Adora huffs, indignant.

“What? I’m good with emotions.”

Catra cackles and Adora goes so red even her ears look like they’re burning.

“Sure you are, you just waited until you were on your deathbed to admit you even had them-”

“Hey! I was doing it for the greater good-”

Catra opens her mouth to protest when she sees Perfuma standing next to them, waving timidly.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt-”

Adora jumps then, just now noticing her. She’s always had slow reflexes.

“If it’s not a good time, I can-” she points behind her.

“N-no, no, it’s a great time!” Adora assures her, standing abruptly, leaving Catra to fall backward, landing unceremoniously on the ground. “Oh! Sorry, Catra."

“It’s fine,” she stands, dusting off her clothes as Perfuma fidgets, waiting for a good time to speak. 

“Hi. Um, Scorpia mentioned to me last night that you were interested in meditation?” she begins, clearly trying to mask a wide grin.

“Yeah,” Catra replies, terse.

“Right. Well, would you want to come try with me right now? I’ve got some time before dinner and the evening group meditation so-”

“Now?” Catra asks, smoothing her tail as it puffs involuntarily.

“We don’t have to right now, I can come another time-”

“Uh, no. Now’s fine, I guess,” she answers, afraid if she doesn’t go now she’ll lose her nerve. “Can I bring Melog?”

“Oh, of course! I’d love to have them along,” she smiles tenderly, reaching out to give them a little pat on the head. Melog doesn’t seem pleased but tolerates it with only a few quick swings of their tail. 

“We’ll be back soon,” Perfuma reassures Adora, who has the widest, most ludicrous grin on her face.

“Take your time,” she waves her hand, watching Catra walk with Perfuma, still grinning. Catra snickers as Adora leans on one of the main support poles of their tent, succeeding in toppling it just as they turn a corner, out of view. 

Perfuma leads her to a little clearing not unlike the one she found Scorpia in last night.

“So you know, before we start all this,” Catra cuts in, intimidated by Perfuma’s impossible optimism as she turns to face her. “I’m not good at this touchy feely stuff. So it might take me a bit.”

“Of course it will,” Perfuma tells her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You have to practice to be good at anything. Feelings are no different.”

Catra quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. 

“So what’s bothering you the most?”

Catra swallows hard, unsure if she’ll be able to pull the words from her throat. She puts an absent hand on Melog to steady herself.

“Things have been worse for me since we got back home.”

“Worse how?”

“All this stuff I thought I was over is coming back. I’m getting angry and freaking out-”

“Okay,” she nods. “What do you usually do when you feel angry or like you’re freaking out?”

“Try to stop.”

Perfuma nods knowingly. The idea that she knows something Catra doesn’t makes her shift, uncomfortable.

“So let’s try something. Get comfortable, it doesn’t matter if you sit, stand, lie down. I like to sit but you can do whatever you like.”

Catra isn’t sure what would make her most comfortable here when the entire idea of this is completely foreign. She just sits across from Perfuma, copying her.

“Close your eyes.”

It feels painfully vulnerable to do it, but she forces herself to close her eyes. Catra wouldn’t have dared shut her eyes in the presence of anyone two years ago and now, here she is, trusting someone she hardly knows with the stuff of her heart. Her palms sweat.

“I want you to take a moment to feel any sensations in the body. The grass under your legs or any tightness in the muscles-”

Sweating palms, the grass under her a distracting tickle, her shoulders aching because she can’t relax them, her tail unable to keep still, switching back and forth.

“As well as anything in your mood or your emotions.”

A terror she can scarcely articulate at being here, a burning shame that she needs this at all.

“Just acknowledge anything you feel and sit with it. Let it exist, let it be. Feel how you are right at this moment and recognize it.”

This is already counter to everything Catra has ever been told. She’s never had time or room to let anything exist or breathe. Feelings have always been at best inconvenient and at worst outright dangerous. Tipping your hand to what you want or what you’re afraid of in the Horde is a weakness that’ll sooner have you stabbed in the back than anything else. 

Catra tries to do as she says, but she realizes Perfuma’s moved on already and she’s still stuck just trying to exist.

“Wait. Sorry, I lost track,” she sputters, embarrassed, opening her eyes. Perfuma shakes her head.

“That’s okay. There’s no rules to this,” she smiles serenely. “What happened?”

“I don’t think I even know how to let things ‘be’ or whatever you said. Or at least I got sidetracked when you said it.”

“I’m sorry, I went too fast,” she shakes her head.

“I bet Scorpia didn't have trouble with this,” Catra looks at the ground, flustered, fighting the urge to behead the little dandelions under her in frustration.

“She did, actually. With a lot of the same things,” Perfuma disagrees. “From what she’s told me, feelings were seen as a weakness in the Horde.”

“Yeah, just a little,” Catra whispers, hoarse.

“So it makes perfect sense that you would need a little more time to give what you’re feeling the space to breathe. That’s really my mistake, I should’ve expected that-” Perfuma flushes a little.

“No, it’s okay,” she croaks, and the reassurance feels strange in her mouth.

Perfuma gives her a thankful look before placing her hands together.

“Let’s try again. This time we’ll do the same but I’ll let you tell me when you’re ready to go to the next step.”

Catra closes her eyes again, trying to let what she’s feeling come to the fore without dismissing it. It’s a valiant struggle not to bury them somewhere deep in her chest or reject them as trivial or too painful to acknowledge. But after many minutes of silence, they start to surface, growing into the quiet only punctuated by the rustle of grass in the wind and birdsong.

Once they start to emerge there are almost too many for Catra to handle. Anger is the loudest and most insistent. Frustration that she couldn’t handle herself well enough to avoid this. Resentment at herself for still being angry with Adora when they’re supposed to be happy now. A nameless fury that still smolders deep in her chest that she still can’t understand. 

Under it, like kindling to fire are things that are more difficult to acknowledge, though she recognizes them. Breathless desperation not to be left behind, forgotten, ignored. Consuming panic that she’s going to lose the things she loves after getting them back. That she’s going to lose Adora and her friends, that she’ll drive them away again, that they’ll leave her to maddening loneliness. Grief, heavy like stone, that presses on her chest. 

“There’s a lot of them,” she complains out loud to Perfuma without opening her eyes. Catra hopes she doesn’t hear the sniffling she’s doing as tears threaten to spill from the corners of her closed eyes. 

“That’s alright. Sometimes there are more than others. Take as long as you need.”

After a moment she speaks.

“I’m ready.”

Her voice is strained and wobbly, higher than normal. She’s sure Perfuma knows she’s holding back tears, but she says nothing about it.

“I want you to bring your attention to your breathing. Breathe in and out normally and acknowledge the feeling. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your belly expands and falls again.”

Catra does as she says, though she finds it difficult to clear her mind. Other things tug at her and she doesn’t think she’s supposed to let them. Isn’t her mind supposed to be empty for this to work?

As if Perfuma knows already that her thoughts roam free in a way she can’t contain, she tells her, “If you find your mind wandering, take note of those thoughts. Recognize them gently and with compassion as you bring your attention back to your breathing.”

Catra does as she says. Her flurry of thoughts are still there, drifting in and out without preamble. But now they feel a little farther away, as if bobbing on the end of a kite. She’s still connected to them, feels their intermittent pull, sometimes yanking roughly, sometimes only gently tugging. They still sting. Sometimes it’s difficult to let them be without feeling the overwhelming urge to do something with them, bury them, or fight them off. 

"Each time your mind wanders, acknowledge the thought and then focus again on your breathing," she says again. "And when you're ready you can open your eyes."

"That's it?" Catra blurts, unable to stop herself, opening her eyes. 

"Of course not," Perfuma laughs, unperturbed. "There’s a whole world to explore, but I find it best to start small and slow. This was just to get your feet wet, so to speak."

Catra shudders at the image of water but puts it out of her mind. 

“How long until I stop feeling like garbage?”

“That’s hard to say. And I want to make sure you understand that meditation doesn’t stop your feelings.”

“Then what’s the point?” Catra throws her hands up, annoyed.

“The point is to change the way you engage with them,” she explains, peaceful as if Catra isn’t on the verge of a tantrum across from her. “You said usually if you’re feeling bad, you try to stop those feelings. May I ask how well that works for you?”

“Clearly not well or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Exactly. Meditating is supposed to help you acknowledge those feelings. I think you’ll find if you stop fighting them so hard and let them breathe, you’ll feel better and you may get a little more insight into why they’re there.”

Catra crosses her arms, well aware she’s pouting but unable to stop herself.

“I’m sorry. I wish there was a quicker solution for you. But unfortunately processes like this take time and patience with yourself.”

“It’s okay. My issues aren’t your fault,” she grumbles.

“No, but I think you’ll find a lot of yours aren’t necessarily your fault either. Although I think that’s something we can revisit tomorrow,” she says, final, standing and offering a hand to Catra. She reluctantly takes it, self-conscious at the familiarity but unwilling to risk offending the person who’s just patiently weathered a storm of her emotions. They walk slowly together back towards the tent Catra and Adora share.

“If you want more practice, you can always join our group meditations in the morning and the evening,” she offers brightly, clasping her hands together in front of her in an eternal hope that Catra is immediately going to dash. The thought of being so defenseless and weak in front of a veritable crowd is so terrifying it takes every bit of restraint she has not to physically recoil.

“I think that’s a bit much for me,” she answers, hoping Perfuma won’t be affronted but she nods, unfazed.

“That’s alright, I thought so. I just wanted you to know that the offer stands if or when you’re ready.”

When they reach the tent, Perfuma pauses out of earshot from where Adora sits, looking between them apprehensively.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah. Sounds good,” she looks at the ground, holding her arm as if protecting herself.

“Okay. You should be very proud of yourself for starting this journey,” she beams before waving cheerfully and turning to make her way into the easy flow of activity in Plumeria. 

Catra can’t look Adora in the eye just yet as she joins her. She flops unceremoniously into her lap, burying her face in the crook of her neck.

“How was it?” she asks just like Catra knew she would.

“I don’t know. Fine and also weird,” she groans.

“Did it help?”

“Kind of? For a second, anyway. But she said it could take a while for me to feel better and that I need practice. So I’m doing this every day for however long it takes for it to work, I guess.”

“Oh. Do you want to keep going?”

“I mean, I don’t really know what else to do.”

“Me neither,” Adora sighs, turning to kiss her on the forehead, resting there after. “I already tried with punching and that didn’t do much.”

Catra shrugs.

“At least punching was fun. What did you do while I was gone?”

“Apple picking with Swift Wind.”

Catra looks around outside the tent. She doesn’t see any sign of apples.

“Where are they?”

“Oh,” she winces. “We kind of ate them as we picked them.”

Catra rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Cool, so when Plumeria goes through an apple shortage, we know whose fault it is.”

Adora shoves her playfully and Catra pounces on her as Adora shrieks in laughter. They devolve into giggling, tussling in the grass together. 

The next day, Catra’s palms are sweating a little less as she sits across from Perfuma. She’s still not wholly comfortable, but at least it’s no longer so unfamiliar.

“Ready?” she asks, gentle.

“As I’ll ever be,” she mumbles.

“Alright. So we’re going to close our eyes and take note of any sensations in our body again, physical or emotional.”

The grass still tickles just off of itching but its scent is sweet at the very least. Her ears swivel on their own, taking in the wind and the birds and the constant cacophony of Plumeria. Have her shoulders ever been relaxed? Not since she can remember.

There’s uneasiness with Perfuma. Fear that this will never work. Worry that maybe she’s hopelessly and inherently bad no matter what Adora says. That ever-present anger she can’t articulate that ranges between a tiny spark and an inferno that she can’t control, one that burns her and everyone around her. 

“And now we’re going to concentrate on the breath again like we did yesterday. Acknowledge the way your abdomen naturally expands and deflates. Acknowledge any thoughts that cross your mind, let them exist, but bring your thoughts back to your breath after.”

This is stupid.  _ Inhale.  _ But this is a penance she deserves for being unable to control herself.  _ Exhale. _ What is Adora doing?  _ Inhale _ . What if she’s hanging out with someone else?  _ Exhale.  _ What if she likes them better than Catra?  _ Inhale.  _ What will happen to her when Adora finally realizes she’s not worth the effort?  _ Exhale.  _ Do any of them actually like her or are they just tolerating her?  _ Inhale.  _ Why is she so angry all the time?  _ Exhale. _

“Now we’re going to pay a little more attention to the body. Starting at the toes, the soles of your feet, moving up to the ankles. Noting any sensations, any aches or pains. Again, if thoughts wander, take note of them, treating them with compassion. Don’t focus on solving anything or making your thoughts go away. Just acknowledge them, nothing else.”

Catra listens to the lilt of Perfuma’s voice, tranquil and bell-like in the clearing, blending seamlessly with the natural sound of Plumeria. She moves up the body, advising Catra to focus on her legs, her breath again, her arms, her fingertips, her ears, all the way to the top of her head. 

“Now I want you to see if there’s a difficult feeling anywhere, an ache in your shoulders or a difficult emotion.”

Catra can’t stifle a laugh. She expects indignation from Perfuma, but she giggles back. 

“It’s okay if there are many. Just pick one for now and try to see where you can feel it in your body.”

She expects anger to surface first. But instead, it’s fear, a painful prickle along her spine that feels like a shiver and makes her hair stand on end. A squeezing in her heart that takes her breath, dries her mouth, makes her feel simultaneously hot, cold, and numb.

“And now return your attention to any part of your body that feels good or at ease. Maybe your breath, your fingertips, your feet. Anything that might give you a break from things that might be overwhelming to feel.”

Catra isn’t sure any part of her feels actively good, but at least her breath is easy to focus on and predictable.

“Bring your attention again to that thing that feels unpleasant, whatever it is, and then return your attention to that pleasant place.”

They do this a few times, back and forth before Perfuma tells her, “Now I want you to try to do both. Can you stay wherever it feels good or safe in your body and also recognize that unpleasant thing? Try to recognize it but don’t give it your whole attention, give it a sideways glance.”

It’s harder than it seems. Her fear is vehement and doesn’t take kindly to being relegated to a sideways glance. But she tries as hard as she can, trying to stay with her breathing. After a while it’s a little like looking at it from afar, observing it with space in between. Sometimes it still frightens her, threatens to close the gap between them or comes closer than she’d like. But the space is a welcome relief.

“And when you’re ready, you can open your eyes,” Perfuma repeats as she did yesterday. Catra takes a moment before she does so, sighing.

“So how do you feel?” she asks, eager.

“It was kind of nice,” she admits, but she’s still not entirely convinced.

“Do you have any questions for me? Any reservations?” she asks, placing her hands delicately in her lap. 

“Yeah,” she confesses. She’s been avoiding criticism of the process, but she can’t pretend any longer that she doesn’t have doubts.

“Go ahead,” Perfuma encourages.

“I don’t know how this is supposed to help me in the real world. I can’t just sit down in the middle of trying to keep Thaymore from being flattened to  _ meditate. _ ”

“No, you’re right. You can’t. But you can apply what you learn here to those situations when you’re stressed.”

Catra narrows her eyes, unsure.

“Let’s put it this way.” she continues, as unflappable as ever. “It’s just like your combat training in the Horde. You weren’t good at it at first, I’m sure.”

“No,” Catra shakes her head. 

“You had to learn and at first it was hard and you didn’t know what you were doing. If they threw you into a battle after two training sessions, would you have won that fight?”

“No,” she answers again. 

“Right. You won’t be able to do this right now in ‘real life.’ But after a lot of practice, you will.”

“How do I know it’s even worth trying? What if it doesn’t work for me even after all this?” 

“Was there any point yesterday or today that you felt better for a moment?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, almost silent, afraid that admitting it will make that momentary relief disappear, never to return. 

“If you felt better at all during these sessions, even for just a minute, isn’t that worth it?”

“I guess. And it didn’t make me feel worse, so,” she reasons.

Perfuma nods, smiling.

So Catra keeps coming to practice with her, day after day. At first it seems unnecessarily repetitive and any hope of seeing results feels desperately out of reach. 

But then there are little things, small and fleeting signs of progress. 

She comes up to the little tent after meditating to find Adora chatting with Glimmer and Bow on their tracker pad, grinning. The flare of jealousy and anger is still there. She wonders if it always will be. But she breathes for a moment, rooted in one spot, the feeling of grass under her feet, and they shrink enough that Catra can sit next to Adora and join the conversation. Glimmer even teases her, friendly, and although that unease joins the jealousy and anger, they all seem smaller after a quiet breath.

She still sees Scorpia at meals and around the kingdom. Like everything else, Catra’s shame at the pain she caused her is far from gone. But with a little effort, it feels far away enough that she can smile with her and try to start rebuilding what they lost.

She’s even getting used to Perfuma’s presence. Before, her pacifism seemed artificial to Catra, an act to seem superior to her and everyone else. But now she realizes that it isn’t a front nor is it an inherent part of her that’s different from anyone else. It’s merely a commitment and it’s strange to see how much sheer work her peaceful demeanor actually takes, a constant and concerted effort. 

Perfuma is not actually naturally placid, Catra finds. She likes to watch her from afar when they’re not meditating, watch her practice the things she’s teaching Catra. The way she holds the bridge of her nose and breathes deeply, clearly perturbed when she’s found that the cactus she’s been tending isn’t doing as well as she hopes. Moments she seems detached and troubled as if she’s fighting to keep something at bay. How Scorpia holds her and looks as if she’s trying to reassure her as Perfuma looks at her, uncertain but hopeful.

Catra is starting to feel hopeful herself. Even Adora’s expression lately is less anxious and more confident when she looks at Catra. 

Things get better slowly and Catra is so convinced they’ll keep moving that way that she’s blindsided the night she wakes from a nightmare in a cold sweat, Adora shaking her madly.

“Catra!” she wails, chin wobbling, eyes wide and watering. “Oh thank god you’re awake.”

Catra tries to reassure her that she’s alright but she can’t breathe deeply enough to speak. She’s still trembling and she can feel tears on her face.

“Are you okay?” she sniffles. “Y-you were crying and then you started screaming, I couldn’t wake you up.”

Melog paces behind them, distressed. Catra wants to be able to accept Adora’s comfort, but everything feels too close as the dream comes back to her. She scrambles away into the back corner of the tent as Melog leaps in front of her, putting themself between her and Adora.

“I’m sorry,” she shakes her head and they’re the only words she can eke out between her heaving breaths.

“No, it’s okay. Do you want me to leave?”

She shakes her head no. She’s trying to do what Perfuma tells her to do, trying to breathe but her chest is spasming. Focusing on it is doing nothing to keep any of this at bay when her body is betraying her like this. 

She can’t remember the dream in detail but the overall gist was all-too familiar. Adora was dying. Shadow Weaver was talking to her and the longer she did, the weaker Adora became and the farther she got from Catra, stumbling along with Shadow Weaver’s hand clamped firmly on her shoulder. No amount of calling after Adora and pleading with her brought her back.

After a few minutes of Catra gulping air with no improvement, Adora, visibly distressed, asks, “Should we get Perfuma? Do you think she could help?”

Catra can’t answer. She’s still trying to get control of her breathing, but how can breath be calming when her lungs feel like they’re not taking in air no matter how many times she fills them?

After a moment Adora squares her shoulders, resolved, and tells her she’ll be right back. She’s taken the decision out of Catra’s hands and she disappears, her footfalls growing faint as she dashes off to get Perfuma.

Catra can only wait and try to tread water.

“It’s never been this bad-” she hears Adora tell Perfuma just outside the tent. They step in and Catra would normally hate being watched but she can’t argue that trying to fix this herself isn’t working.

“This has happened before?” she asks, concerned but calmer than Adora.

“Nightmares, yeah. Sometimes she needs a second after, but never for this long-”

Perfuma approaches carefully. Melog bares their teeth, mane an angry crimson. 

“It’s alright,” Perfuma tells them, unfazed. “Catra, do you think you can try a breathing exercise with me?’

She nods, willing to try anything. Perfuma quietly guides her, telling her when to inhale and exhale. It’s difficult for her to follow at first. The breaths in Perfuma tells her to take are long and slow, the breaths out even longer. Her lungs fight her, trying to fill and empty themselves rapidly in a way that burns. 

Eventually, though, she’s able to do what Perfuma instructs. When she tells her she can stop, Catra’s breathing has returned to its natural rhythm. She’s immediately struck by how tired she is. Her limbs are leaden and she feels a headache beginning behind her eyes. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to rest now?” Perfuma asks, gentle. Catra nods absently.

“Good. Rest as much as you can. If you’re feeling up to tomorrow, that’s fine, but if you’re not it’s okay. Do you want me to stay here?”

“No, I think I’m okay,” she wheezes, voice a weak rasp.

“Okay. You can come get me again if you need,” she directs to both her and Adora before leaving. Adora is across the tent in an instant, arms open before she pauses. 

“Can I-” she asks, hesitant after Catra hid in the corner of the tent less than an hour ago. Catra gladly places herself in her arms and Adora clutches her like a lifeline, threading her fingers in her hair.

“I was worried about you,” she breathes, still shaken, squeezing her tightly. “I’m still worried about you.”

“Thank you,” Catra murmurs. “For getting Perfuma.”

“I’m glad it helped. I was scared, I couldn’t think of anything else to do,” she answers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Catra shakes her head, too tired to do anything but close her eyes and cling to Adora.

She awakes the next day before she usually goes to meditate with Perfuma, but resolves as soon as she’s awake that she’s too tired to go today. She isn’t sleepy anymore but she’s overcome by an exhaustion she’s only felt a few times before. The first day after Adora left the Horde; after Adora plucked her from the jaws of Prime’s ship; the day after the war ended for good. 

She quietly asks Adora to go let Perfuma know she won’t make it and she obliges without protest, only pausing to give Catra a worried backward glance.

Catra isn’t sure she can stand for anyone other than Adora to see her. What if they heard her cries before Adora woke her? What if they can tell what she’s feeling by the look on her face? Instead, she stays in, staying close to Adora, Melog, or both, craving the physical reminders that they’re here and aren’t leaving her.

The next days pass in the same fashion. Each day, Catra asks Adora to tell Perfuma she isn’t coming. Every day Adora dutifully goes to send word to her. Catra isn’t blind to the increasingly distressed expression on her face the longer she stays inside, curled up next to her and Melog. But if success is followed by a lapse like the one she had, she isn’t sure what the point is. 

After nearly a week of this, Perfuma comes over to see her before Adora can go cancel on Catra’s behalf yet again. 

“Hi, it’s me,” she calls just outside the tent. “Can I come in?”

Adora looks at Catra, beseeching. She nods, curling tighter in on herself.

“Yes, come in,” Adora answers and Perfuma peeks around the flap of the tent

“Hi,” she smiles sadly. “Catra?”

Catra doesn’t look at her but she does answer.

“I’m listening.”

“Do you feel up for a walk with me?”

“I don’t want to meditate-”

“I’m not here to ask you to meditate,” she shakes her head. “I’m just worried about you and I want to know if you’re okay.”

“Why does that require a walk?” she mumbles, fighting the urge to hide her face.

“I suppose it doesn’t. I wanted to talk to you but if you don’t want to, that’s alright.”

Perfuma’s quiet acceptance of Catra’s rebuff is worse than if she lost her temper with her. Catra can tell she’s slipping back into old habits, the same ones that chased Adora and Scorpia and now Perfuma away from her. 

“No, I’ll take a walk.”

The relief emanating from Adora is palatable as Catra stands. Her joints are stiff from being stuck in the same positions for days. 

“We shouldn’t be long,” Perfuma reassures Adora before they leave. Catra squints in the sunlight as her eyes adjust. They walk along the same path they usually take but she passes the little clearing they use for meditation, true to her word.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry you’ve been having a hard week,” Perfuma starts, sympathetic in a way Catra isn’t sure what do do with. 

“Not your fault,” she mumbles.

“I did want to ask if there’s a particular reason you stopped coming to our meditations? Again, I’m not here to convince you to keep going if it isn’t working for you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Catra snorts. “Clearly I’m not good at it. I thought the other night made that pretty obvious.”

“That’s what I was a little worried about,” Perfuma nods, biting her lip. “Only you know whether it’s helping you or not. But I want you to know that a bad night or a bad week doesn’t mean you’ve failed or you’re doing badly.”

“Seriously?” Catra laughs, humorless, stopping dead in her path. “That wasn’t doing badly to you?”

“No, I don’t mean that you didn’t have a bad night. I mean that your efforts aren’t wasted just because-”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Catra interrupts, her anger and disappointment gaining momentum. “I keep trying and trying and it doesn’t seem to matter what I do-”

“It does matter-”

“I thought I was doing well,” she gasps.

“You are,” she reassures her, fervent, stepping close to her with her hands out as if trying to dispel the frustration that’s threatening to bubble over in Catra. “These things aren’t predictable. Sometimes you feel fine and then you have a bad day or week. Even bad months. That doesn’t mean you’re not still doing well. ”

“How do you know?” Catra volleys back, whirling on her with a snarl, the crack in the dam splintering and breaking open. “You keep telling me I’m doing well but how would you know what it’s like when you’re already perfect at all this?”

“Because I’ve been through it! Why else would I need to do this everyday?” she wails, desperate, losing her composure before she takes a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. 

Catra’s mouth has gone dry and she can’t move. She’s seen fissures in Perfuma’s composure before, but never this close.

“Why do you think I want to help you so badly?” she asks, voice little more than a hoarse whisper, one Catra can barely hear over the birds singing in the trees. 

“I’m sorry-” Catra stammers, regretting her lapse in control.

“It’s okay,” Perfuma shakes her head, voice wobbling dangerously. “I’ve just been there and I’m still there a lot more often than I’d like. I’d do anything to help someone feel better, even if it’s just for a few minutes because I know what it’s like.”

“I didn’t know that,” Catra tells her but it feels pitifully inadequate as Perfuma blinks back tears. 

“I know you didn’t know. Of course you’d think I’m perfect at it. But I’m not. I’ve just been practicing most of my life.”

Perfuma stares at the ground and Catra is silently berating herself for losing her temper. She feels as if she should do something to comfort her. She slowly reaches out and places a hand on Perfuma’s shoulder, hoping she’s doing this right. Perfuma sniffles and smiles at her hand that’s trembling where it rests lightly on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Catra clears her throat, unable to look Perfuma in the eyes. 

“It’s alright. I wouldn’t normally react so strongly but it’s hard for me sometimes to watch people struggle in some of the same ways I have.”

“Uh, do you want to go sit down and talk or something?” she stutters. Is this what people do when someone is crying? The only person she knows how to comfort with any success is Adora and that usually entails punching.

“If you’d like, yes,” she accepts. They go back to the little clearing they use for meditation but this time they sit next to one another instead of facing one another. It’s silent at first the way it is when they meditate together, but there’s a rawness in the space between them that Catra’s never felt before.

“I’m not sure how much you know about my life,” she sighs. “It’s not particularly interesting but also not very happy so I won’t continue unless you’re alright hearing that kind of thing.”

“I might actually like to hear it,” Catra admits. “Sorry, maybe that’s weird.”

“I don’t think so. Sometimes it helps to know you’re not alone. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were.”

“You didn’t. It’s definitely me. I... get in my own head a lot. Sometimes I feel like everyone here is so far ahead of me because I was the last person to join. I get worried that people don’t like me because of it and I don’t always know what to do with it. So I freak out and get mad and-”

She pulls petals off a flower next to them until she catches Perfuma wincing and she stops. 

“I know the feeling. I was an incredibly angry child, actually,” Perfuma sniffles, dabbing at her eyes.

“You!?” Catra can’t quell the laughter in her voice. “Sorry, can’t see it.”

“I was, I was actually terribly difficult,” Perfuma returns the smile before she sobers. “I lost my parents very young.”

“I’m sorry,” Catra pins her ears, shrinking. What are people supposed to say to that? What could she possibly say that would ever be comforting?

“Thank you. I was so resentful after, for years. It felt so unfair to me. They were peaceful people trying to protect their kingdom and I couldn’t understand why it had to be them. I know that so many others went through the same thing but it felt so personal to me-"

“It was,” Catra argues. “It doesn’t matter how many others went through it. It was personal to them and to you.”

“Thank you. It’s good not to diminish your own suffering in remembering others’. I’m not always good at that.”

“Yeah, I have practice dealing with that because neither is Adora,” Catra smiles, rolling her eyes a little.

“That’s true,” she giggles somewhere between fondness and exasperation.

“So you started meditating as a kid?”

“Yes. The people of this village raised me together. They taught me how when my anger started to harm me.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

“No. No emotion is inherently bad, even the ones that don’t feel pleasant. Anger can defend you and help you remember your worth. Sadness can remind you what is important to you, what and who you love. Both can help others realize when you might need help. They’re incredibly important. But they can become too big or too intense, past the point of helping you.”

Catra sits with that for a moment. 

“I guess that’s what you mean by meditating not stopping you from feeling things?”

“Yes. Those feelings aren’t bad on their own. But I often need more distance from them for them to be helpful for me again.”

The conversation lapses for a moment and Catra distracts herself by watching a little bird hop about on a bough high in the tree just overhead. It shakes loose a little flower petal, a pink so delicate it’s almost white. It drifts down and lands in her open palm. 

“I’d tell you my story, but you already know most of it,” Catra offers.

“Yes. I can only imagine how hard it was. It was difficult enough for me with an entire kingdom trying to help me. I’m so sorry you went through so much almost entirely on your own.”

“It’s okay,” Catra deflects, wilting under the attention.

“I don’t even blame you for not wanting to join the Rebellion at first. I didn’t want to myself when they first approached me.”

“You didn’t?” Catra’s eyes widen in shock. Perfuma’s allegiance to the Rebellion has always seemed unwavering. Catra thought she would’ve been the easiest to convince. 

“No. I felt that it was needlessly violent. I was actually angry with them for bringing it up, not that I said so. But I thought if the Rebellion hadn’t existed, maybe I wouldn’t have lost my parents and I didn’t want to lose anyone else. It took me a little while to see that my parents and my kingdom were always in danger, Rebellion or no, and to remember that the Horde were the ones that took my parents. I joined when I remembered they were the real enemy, not the people trying to protect us.”

Catra knows this feeling all too well. It was so easy to blame the Rebellion when she lost Adora. She couldn’t see that losing her had nothing to do with the Rebellion or with Adora herself and everything to do with a war and people more powerful than them using them. The Horde would’ve pulled Adora away from her no matter what and joining the Rebellion was hardly a choice for Adora. She knows that now. It was the only path forward that had any hope of protecting what they have now. 

“Thanks for telling me that. I thought you were always part of this. It makes me feel better to know that you’re not perfect or whatever,” Catra devolves into stammering, turning to hide the blush that she can feel burning on her cheeks.

“I’m far from perfect. I assumed you already knew that, but I’m always glad to remind you. I’ll probably even remind you unintentionally,” she giggles, disarming. “If the meditations truly don’t help you, that’s alright. But please don’t ever imagine that I think I’m better than you or that I would ever judge your struggles.”

They sit together in a silence that’s not quite companionable yet but Catra thinks they may get there in time. 

“Would you want to meditate with me now?” Catra asks, halting. Perfuma sighs, but it’s not a serene and quiet one like the ones she usually gives her. It’s tired and a little burdened but grateful all the same.

“That would be lovely, yes.”

The little clearing goes silent again, the only noises quiet and measured breath and the musical rustle of leaves as the wind cuts through the forest.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Practicing Peace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559759) by [belmione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmione/pseuds/belmione)




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